


Coming Home to a Place They've Never Been

by SophieValentine (Saeldur)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Mild Language, Tags as we Go!, Tags in Order of Appearance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-12-11 04:11:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11706558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saeldur/pseuds/SophieValentine
Summary: In a world where supernatural creatures are more than a madman’s fancy, where people rely on Hunters to keep them safe, the town of Beacon Hills is an oddity. Drawn to a powerful convergence of ley lines, druids founded the settlement, creating a Nemeton; the sacred grove drew all manner of beasties, good and bad.Alliances had to be made, and ever since, the Hale Pack has been responsible for the safety of the town, and the town provides for the pack. Five years ago, Hunters nearly destroyed the Hales, with the help of the Pack’s own Emissary. Derek Hale is the current 'Alpha' for the pack, and things are starting to get back to normal under his guidance, but the calm can’t hold out forever.





	1. Author and Setting Notes

**Author's Note:**

> AU: This story takes place in an alternate universe setting. I know how much you love reading! So I prepared some reading before you do your reading.
> 
> (Also, if you recognize this at all, do not worry, it's not theft. I wrote a story called 'Coming Home to a Place He's Never Been', deleted it, revamped it, and am now unleashing this...whatever this is. I don't know why I didn't just edit that one. Call me screwy. Anyway - you've got reading to do!)

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing but this story concept. Not the characters, not the world, not the art or pictures I use or reference.**

**Not getting a profit out of this, so don't sue. Much love.**

**World Specifics:** Supernatural creatures are more than just fairytales, more than someone’s overactive imagination. They’re the sort of thing that everyone knows about, but no one figures they’ll see in their lifetime. Lycanthropes aren’t ‘out’ in normal society, and each country has their own way of dealing with them; in this world, Hunters abound.

The town of Beacon Hills, however, was founded by druids - who believe in the natural order and balance of everything. Since the town’s creation, there has been a pack to protect it. I’m not here to give you every detail about the place - hopefully the flavor and attitude will come out through the story.

**Were-specific Changes:** There are three 'levels' of lycanthropes, and three of each kind (now with pictures!):

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**Small:** Kitsune (Fox), Cat Sidhe (Lynx), and Jambavan (Sun Bear) - each of these supernatural creatures has only a human form and an (animal form). They each have their own brand of ‘magic’ that they can perform while in human form (ex: Kitsune has electricity ‘magic’, like Kira). They are agile, quick, and able to out maneuver most larger weres by virtue of not being burdened by large, heavy muscle mass, but they are (comparatively) fragile to their larger counterparts.

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**Medium:** Werecoyote (Coyote), Werecougar (Cougar), and Werebear (Black Bear) - each of these supernatural creatures has a human form, an augmented form {fangs and claws like in the show}, and an (animal form). These are the mid-range weres. They are lighter, more agile than the large weres, but stronger and more sturdy than the small weres. These weres have their own special abilities too. (NO SPOILERS)

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**Large:** Werewolf (Wolf), Weretiger (Tiger), and Werebear (Brown Bear) - each of these supernatural creatures has a human form, an augmented form {fangs and claws}, an (animal form). These are the powerhouse species - they pack a devastating punch, but as a drawback, are not as quick and agile as their smaller counterparts. In addition, some of them have an anthropomorphic form {like Peter in Season 1}. All Weretigers and Werebears are capable of changing into the anthropomorphic form, but only the ‘Alphas’ of Werewolves can effect this transformation. (colloquially this is called an ‘Alpha form’) This is to balance the fact that Weretigers and Werebears do not travel in packs.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

**Cast Changes:** The Sheriff’s name is now John Taggart (Previously John Stilinski), and the part of his son will be played by Niall Taggart, a burgeoning magic user - a druid. Jackson never left for England (awoooo, no werewolves of London). 

**Storyline Changes:** The fire still happened, and it and the subsequent fight (killing of those responsible) killed all but four pack members. Kate was still responsible (in my version Victoria helped, because she’s a bitch), and both of them are dead. Dead dead. Because Peter double checks. Morell had been the pack’s Emissary, and now she’s dead too. I’ll let you draw your own conclusions. Niall is meant to be the pack’s new Emissary, but Deaton came into town to find out about his sister’s death and decided to stay, and now they both do their part (and argue constantly).

Everything else, you’ll have to figure out as we go. SO LET’S GO!


	2. Day One - Sunday

Malia Hale stretched her arms over her head, reaching up on tippy toes, curving, leaning backwards until - CRACK! She sighed, satisfied, as she dropped her arms and rolled her shoulders. The early morning air was crisp and fragrant, there hadn’t been so much as a fairy for months, it was three nights until the full moon, and all things considered, Malia decided she was having a very good day.

She finished folding her clothes and stacked them in a neat little pile. If she had it her way, she’d just drop them wherever (unless it was raining, of course) and let it go. But. The Rangers had a tendency to pick up clothing that was strewn about, assuming it was because one of them needed to change in a hurry and probably wouldn’t be coming back by that way. They weren’t often wrong. But when they were...well. Malia smiled to herself, picturing the boys’ faces when she strolled into one of the pack houses naked as the day she was born. So easy to fluster.

Malia shook her head at the thought, and focused on the shift, allowing the stretch and pull to wash along her like a great rolling wave, curling over the shore. When she opened her eyes, the world was born anew - images were sharper, scents were louder, sounds a litany of information. She couldn’t begin to imagine how boring it would be to have a human’s perception. Even on two feet she could smell the rain-damp leaves, hear the distant cawing of crows, and spot the rustle of limbs overhead that gave a squirrel’s position away.

Now, though? There were so many tones to everything it was almost overwhelming. She put her nose to good use and followed a rabbit’s meandering trail for a little while, getting distracted in the chase before she remembered her purpose here. She’d have to remember that den on her way back.

Malia turned instinctively towards the outside edge of the Preserve and jolted into action - it was a ground-eating pace she set, leaping over fallen logs, splashing through little run-off streams, headed ever outward. She picked up the scent of deer, squirrel, and a another fat (and very delicious, thank you) rabbit. She was nearing the edge of the Preserve now, looking for signs of any intruders, visitors - friendly or otherwise.

As had been the case for days and days and weeks now, she had come up with nothing. Malia stopped for a drink in one of the little run off streams before she headed back, and as she lapped up the cool water she felt a prickle of unease.

Someone or something was watching her.

Grey ears twitched as they tried to hear something out of place. A faint rustle of leaves. A heartbeat. Low and very steady. They were closer, whatever they were. She picked her head up, licking her lips, trying to act normal as her nostrils flared, trying to catch a scent.

Nothing.

There was a slight breeze, and it wasn’t in her favor. That meant…

Malia turned and started a leisurely stroll along the stream, then, at the last minute, she whipped her head and lunged towards the creature hiding from her.

She was a riot of motion - nipping, growling, snapping, tumbling over and over with the thing behind the bush; as her teeth clacked together around empty air, she realized it had wriggled out of her grasp.

She blinked, head cocked to the side, and the brown coyote mirrored her pose.

 _A coyote!_ His eyes flashed amber. _A Coyote!_

It sat there, the two of them staring at each other, and she marveled that he looked just as surprised as she. He bowed down in a playful position, scaring her to back up, thinking he was going to pounce. The Coyote wagged it's tail, gave a yip, and then turned tail and ran.

‘Wait!’ She thought, and then there was no time for thinking. Malia leaped forward into a run. Wait! A yipping sound emerged, and she instantly regretted the sound of it. But then he stopped, switching directions, and she nearly barreled into him.

_He’s...playing?_

Malia caught the interloper several times, and each time he managed to deftly wriggle out of her grasp. If it could be described, he had the most goofy look on his little canine face, like he was really enjoying taunting her. She was definitely sure by this point that her coyote was a Werecoyote, but she was starting to think he was a kid. Another were’ would have smelled her pack all over this place and avoided it, most likely. Why in the world he was here, acting a fool, she had no idea. Except to think he wasn’t that old.

It was impossible to tell. She’d never met another Coyote. Whatever. It was only her job to report things. Not fix problems. That was Peter’s job.

After they had tired themselves out, and the brown Coyote had flopped himself on the ground, panting, Malia realized that he had led her on a merry chase...right back to the place she’d first jumped him.

He rolled onto his back and squirmed, clearly scratching an itch, before he bicycled his front paws in the air. Malia cocked her head. The Coyote flopped over, his back to her as he laid in the cool dirt of the forest floor. He was so weird. Malia huffed out a little breath, and saw his tail wag. Fine.

Malia approached slowly, and started sniffing him out. Wet leaf litter, dirt - the smell of the Preserve - and under that, his scent - something warm, with an odd spice. It makes her sneeze, but she goes back to sniffing him, his only sign of noticing to keep thumping his tail against the ground. Two different spices. No. Three. Something sharp. Something...green. And something oddly floral, but savory. Malia can’t place the weird smells at all, and it annoys her.

She couldn’t decide if these other smells were other weres or if they were all him. Maybe part of it was that he was a Coyote. She didn’t have trouble sussing out smells on the others in her Pack. So, did he have others lurking around somewhere? Or was he alone? Omega? She nearly stuck her face into his side, trying to get more than the tiny, barely there spices she was picking up.

He seemed to take her intense sniffing him with the same carefree attitude as before, but after a while of this, he started cartwheeling his legs around, like a turtle stuck on his back. Malia backed up and regarded him with something akin to confusion with a little bit of disgust. He was definitely a weird one. He managed to roll himself over into the stream, getting completely soaked, snout to tail, and completely muddy. He didn’t bother shaking himself off when he got out either. He just stood there, looking at her.

Well, she certainly wasn’t going to do that. That was idiotic. Malia looked around and finally noticed the sun was setting. She was due to report in soon. She jumped forward, taking the other Coyote by surprise, and touched their noses, before running off in the direction of where she had left her clothes.

He sat there in the stream, head cocked to the side, and then picked up one of his feet and waved, still dripping wet and covered in mud.

Weird.


	3. Day Two - Monday

Malia didn’t know _what_ had possessed her to report the all clear. She folded the faded american flag shorts in half and dropped them onto the pile. She’d never lied before. Hadn’t gotten away with it, anyway. She stood there, hands on her hips and frowned. Shouldn’t...oh. Malia sighed. There were times when she really felt proud of herself for being like her father - canny, sneaky, brilliant. There were other times it was like a kick to the shins.

She’d told Scott that there were no threats. And then _he’d_ told the others it was ‘all clear’. Of course. She’d seen Peter do it a thousand times. It wasn’t a lie at that point. She believed the Coyote wasn’t a threat, and Scott, of course, believed her. So here she was. The next morning. By herself. On patrol and letting the guilt weigh heavy for a moment in her stomach.

**“Stupid.”** She scoffs at herself, shaking her head. Useless to get hung up on it now.

Malia reached for the change, and as soon as all four feet were on the ground, she took off running, heading for the spot she’d ran with the Coyote yesterday. After adjusting her course several times, she was near enough to the spot that she slowed to a trot - head on a swivel as she tried to catch a glimpse of the other ‘were.

Scolding herself, Malia stuck her nose to the ground and started trying to catch a scent. It didn’t take long at all before she had picked up their combined trail - that heady rush was coming back - there was joy in this scent. This Coyote was _fun._ She followed it intently, picking up the pace now that she was sure she had it. She was almost to a full out run when she had to come skidding to a halt - there he was! Sitting, same as before, staring at her, staring back at him.

He raised his front paw, tilted his head as he did the other day when she left. Malia mimicked the behavior, waving back. The other Coyote immediately dropped down and rolled over. She wondered for a minute if he was expecting her to do the same. But he ended up on his back, his little feet ‘running’ in the air, and he was making the weirdest noise.

He was laughing at her.

Well, that just wasn’t going to do. Malia lunged forward, aiming for his throat - a playful bite, just a little one. But he was already up and away; he was a quick thing, and it was like he almost predicted she was going to do it. He was up now, bouncing a bit, a leaf caught in his scruff. Easily the weirdest Coyote she had ever met...but he was also the _only_ Coyote she’d ever met. So. Maybe male Coyotes were just weird. She might have to break down and ask.

Malia was stirred from her overthinking by the Coyote hopping forwards and backwards, a little closer each time, like he was trying to see how close he could get before she’d reach out and swat him. Admittedly, she was heavily tempted. She just sat there and looked at him with as much disdain as her little lupine face would allow. Instead of being discouraged, he simply crouched down, like he was trying to wriggle under a fence, and slowly, slowly inched forward, one paw out, batting at something invisible.

Mesmerized by whatever he was trying to do, Malia sat there and watched as he inched closer and closer, his tail helicoptering behind him, stirring up the underbrush. He eventually got close, very close, he was almost touching her left front paw with his, and she pulled it up. He went for the other one, she pulled that one up too. He kept scooching forward, trying to touch her back toes, and she realized she’d have to flip over to keep from falling over, and so she did, taking a couple of steps forward, and the Coyote tackled her much as she had tackled him yesterday.

So this was the game. It took some effort, but she eventually wriggled free, and bolted. The other Coyote was hot on her tail, and after a while, seemed to realize that she wasn’t going to make this as easy for him as he had her. It was odd how she could almost see the look of concentration on his face as he really kicked it up into gear - a burst of speed, and he caught up, toppling over Malia, dragging her over as well, until they rolled side over side and end over end in a ridiculous clash of limbs and tails. He really wasn’t good at this.

They tussled a little while longer, but Malia tired of it soon enough. She had rounds to make. It took a couple of looks over her shoulder to get him to follow her at a more sedate pace, but he fell in with her easily enough, the two of them occasionally brushing shoulders. She headed towards the far side of the Preserve in a wide arc, following trails as they struck her fancy, chasing a rabbit or two for lunch.

Malia couldn’t decide if she ought to shift to talk to him. Being human around a shifter wasn’t the best of decisions. He seemed nice enough now, but...she still had a least a small helping of her father’s paranoia. It could all be a plot to get her to...lower her…?

The grey Coyote tilted her head and watched as the brown one squatted in the leaf litter to pee. Had...had she been wrong? She’d thought he was a boy. As the Coyote returned her confused look and trotted closer, she closed in, pressing her nose to his shoulder, sniffing at him. They circled each other until finally Malia just stuck her head underneath him and shoved.

The Coyote flopped to the side, bicycling his legs again, and Malia’s question was answered. She sniffed down his underside. Prodded at him. Definitely male.

Her new friend scrambled up, backing away.

_Oh._

That had probably been pretty rude. _Shit._ The grey Coyote lowered her head, tail tucked down as she inched closer. He wasn’t backing up, and when she got in front of him, she laid down.

She gave a little jolt as she felt something on her head. Tilting her head to look up, she saw he had that dopey, panting face on, one of his paws flicking down over her ear. She tried to move it out of the way, but he kept fiddling with it.

She growled.

He yipped.

The chase was on again.

\--- --- ---

Late afternoon saw the two Coyotes returning to what Malia was starting to think of their meeting place. She had ignored his last couple of attempts to get into some sort of tussle or tag game. She was deep in thought. She’d have to report him at this point. He was still here. He didn’t seem like he had any intention of leaving. Also, she reasoned, he had to know that this territory was held by a pack. Unless he really was a kid. She watched him as he drank from the stream. She sat down and tried to think of what to do.

The whole pack coming down would scare him off, and if he was in need of help, that’d be pretty shitty of them. So. She laid down and tried to reason it out.

As a scout, she had to report him.

As a concerned ‘were for another ‘were, she wanted to help him.

Keeping secrets from the Pack was wrong, and sort of forbidden at this point, given how much trouble it had caused in the past.

But, she didn’t have to tell _everyone_ about him, 'cause she only _had_ to report it to one of the other Hales when it was a problem or a threat. And, clearly- Malia watched the Coyote splash across the stream -yeah. Clearly he wasn’t a threat.

She came up on all fours pretty quickly, decision made, and catching his attention. _'Now or never, Malia.'_

Reaching for the change, she stayed kneeling on the forest floor as fur and claws made way for smooth skin and blunted nails. He didn’t attack. That was good. But he didn’t shift either. _'On the plus side,'_ she thought, _he didn’t flip out like Scott or Isaac._ A snort of amusement was followed by a heavy sigh; she ran a hand through her hair, and just spit it out.

**“I have to tell my pack you’re here.”** She waited, but he only sat down and cocked his head, ears pricked forward and alertly listening. **“Tomorrow, I’m coming back with some of them. Two, maybe three.”** He made an almost whining sound, spun around in a circle, looking agitated. _God_ she wanted to screech in frustration. This wasn’t her job! She wasn’t supposed to be doing this!

_'Goddamnit, Malia. Why couldn’t you just report him yesterday like you’re supposed to?'_

**“Look, they’re not bad guys. In fact, they’re kind of idiots.”** She didn’t know what possessed her to say, **“Like you.”** But the Coyote’s expression was pretty priceless. He looked like he didn’t know whether to snarl or yip in objection, and he just ended up sneezing. **“So don’t worry. They’re good guys. But they’ll want to talk, you know? So.”** She gestured to his form, **“You might have to come out.”**

The Coyote snorted.

Malia really did make a noise of frustration then. **“Fine. But I’m bringing them with me tomorrow, and it’ll be from the same direction. So. Either hang out and meet them, or make yourself scarce.”** There was a grumble about this whole situation not being her job before she was back on all fours, shaking her head as her fur settled around her. 

She turned towards her drop point, and a moment later, she heard the splashing of the creek behind her. The Coyote was following her.

_‘No.’_ She stopped and turned. Malia was not about to take him into town. To one of the pack houses. That was a big no-no. She bared her teeth and prowled forward, causing the other Coyote to take a step back. Unfortunately, when she turned back around, he just followed along at her heels again. It happened several more times, and Malia snapped, growling as she lunged for him, teeth snapping, grabbing mostly fur at his shoulder when he darted out of her grasp.

They stared at each other for a long moment before the brown Coyote turned and fled further into the Preserve.

_Goddamnit._

Malia hurried to her drop point and shimmied into her shorts, fishing the phone out of the pocket. She winced at the bright electronic light, her eyes already adjusting to the fading light.

To Scott: `[Pick me up. South Entrance.]`

Malia put her phone back in her pocket and finished pulling her clothes on. She heard it buzz in response as she was tying her shoes. It buzzed again as she pictured the hurt little look on the Coyote’s face. _'Damnit, Malia.'_

She got up and made her way to the Entrance proper. Her phone buzzed again. Snarling, she pulled the thing out of her pocket and just sighed in disgust as she read the messages.

`[omw - S]` (Wow! A simple text!)

`[Pls answer. Scotts upset. Malia? - I]` (Of course he told Isaac.)

`[Do we need to call anyone else? Is it serious? Don’t panic! - K]` (Good. God. Scott.)

Malia spoke as she tapped out the keys, “I’m...fine…just...come...pick...me...up.” Shoving the phone back into her back pocket, she took up pacing. She yanked the phone back out and sent another message, “I...want...dinner...at...your...place.”

A sudden crunch of leaves behind her made Malia whip her head around, staring back into the Preserve. Brows furrowed, she scanned the surrounding woods, wondering if the Coyote had followed her after all. But there was nothing. She flared her eyes, hoping to see farther into the deepening shadows. But there were no eyes in the bushes, no scent on the wind. Even so, she couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.

Gravel crunched and someone called her name. She let the voices overlap and wash over her as she gave one last searching look into the Preserve, and thought, maybe a little bitterly:

_'Oh good. The cavalry is here.'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For reference, my dears:
> 
>  
> 
> . . . . . . . . 
> 
> . . . . . . . . Malia . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Malia (Coyote) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . WereCoyote . . . . . . . .


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